RPlog:Finding work and being silly
~~ In the morning hour on Tatooine the cantinas are sparley populated by little more than the leftover drunks from the night before. As the Ubese and his compatriot walk into the place a moment is taken at the entrance to gaze over the patrons and be sure that this is not a trap of some sort. Seeming convinced, or just thristy, the pair move in and take a seat in a booth near the back. It's one of the more private locations the cantina has to offer, and is typically used for situations like this. "/Get your self something to drink ther Chuckles, and watch the door. I'll wait here./" The Ubese speaks with a flippant wave of his hand to the Rodian, his voice modulator chirping out his mechanical sounding tones. His visor now also turns to the door as he waits for his contact to arrive. The door slides open, letting in a blast of hot air and dust along with a tall man wearing a long brown coat. Once inside with the door closed behind him, Krackor Reincus takes a moment to light a cigarra as he lets his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. It had been some time since he'd last set foot on his homeworld and he wasn't particularly happy about being back. Business was business, however, and he had work to do. Striding toward the bar, he points to a tall dark bottle and sets down a few credits. While he waits, he turns his back to the bar and scans the few faces who occupy the cantina; looking for the one he was here to meet. Strixto is always on the lookout for trouble, so his large, dark eyes move across the room in a constant sweep. They fall on Korrvas as the armored Ubese settles into the back booth, and the Rodian nods without a word at the command given of him. A drink sounds good right about now. Something cool and mind-altering. He wants to get a buzz going, wants to keep the edge off. A moment later and he's at the bar. "Lum," he tells the tender quickly, before turning his head to eye the front door while the drink is made. He's not entirely sure what this meet is all about, but he's eager to see who the Ubese has rounded up. That's when Krackor walks in, makes his way to the bar. The Rodian eyes him carefully and inclines his head a bit when the stranger reaches the bar. And in walked... a mop of black hair with a deep tanned, almost golden skin. One hand reached into his pocket to casually fiddle with something - in this case it was a hydrospanner - just one of the several tools he had on hand. - tapping the side of the Sensor Pack he was messing with - with it, until it beeped, whirred, and then died. With a grunt, he put both objects back into his sholder pack, and made his way to the cantina. Why? It had booze. He'd beeline for the bar, hopefully avoiding .. glances. ~~ A man with a mop of black hair, doesn't seem like the mysterious dangerous type to the Ubese, however the man with the cigarra scream money and power, so he is who gets the aliens attention for now. Even as he watches the man the Ubese watches the rest of the club, seeming to recline into the booth a little further as he notes any other new arrivals. "/Blerp bloop beep blusp.../" Sounds like he's just making random noises behind his mask, which is probably the case. Korrvas wasn't exaclty considered stable to most beings. "/What?/" He murmurs softly to himself. "/Am too.../" He really isn't, as much as he might try to make others thinks. So for now he just stays quiet. "/Fine./" He again murmurs to himself. And not far behind black-mop-head is blonde-spikey-head. This is a female, however, and unmistakeably so with her graceful gait and womanly appearance. Lark's approach to the cantina proper is slow, measured, her eyes flicking from being to being, studying perhaps, listening, watching, taking note of things, it is her way. She swivels and turns to avoid the paths of others and chooses to skirt groups, content to meander a bit, her head turning to a voice briefly, lingering there before she moves on, the bar in sight. Coming in from the brightness of the Tatooine day, Sri'sti must pause in the relative darkness that is the cantina to allow for her large amber eyes to adjust. In a moment though, the Falleen is moving through the occupants of the crowd, the subtle pheramones she exudes causing people to shift away from her as she approaches and clearing a bit of a path. Scanning around, he eyes lock on the Ubese and she sighs, heading towards the nutcase that is her boss. Krackor's eyes fall on the Rodian and he returns the alien's nod with one of his own. No need to be rude, afterall. The Firrerreo also gets a quick look(not quite a glance) but the former smuggler's drink arrives before he can do more than incline his head in Ravade's direction. Scooping up his drink, Krackor pushes away from the bar and casts another look around, passing over the blonde woman and locking on to the Ubese in the booth. "There we are." he says to himself as he crosses the room. "Korrvas?" he asks as he reaches the table just ahead of the Falleen. "I'm Krackor. Mind if I sit?" Woah. Tattooine really was the melting pot described in the databanks. A Falleen and a Rodian... among other types - this was perhaps the most diverse croud he's seen in awhile. Ravade lifted a hand to summon the tender, ordering a glass of some non-descript drink with a charming low baratone voice - before he turned to lean his back on the bar, to watch and observe. There are lots of people coming in now, and this makes the twitchy Rodian become more alert. Lots of strangers to keep track of. Lots of potential for trouble. Behind him, his drink is set on the bar and he turns to take it. Long fingers snake out to grasp the glass, and a quick sip of the lum is drank, savored. Strixto glances over at the back booth where the Ubese is sitting and the stranger that was just next to him is heading to. It seems the meeting is getting underway. Taking his drink with him, Strixto walks within earshot of the booth, though he doesn't take a seat. He's going to be playing lookout, making sure nobody happens by the table to get wind of whatever deal is being made. Lark contents herself to order a drink then she turns and puts her elbows back against the bar, a thoughtful gaze settling on the Ubese and his gang. A sentinel? Hmmm.. must be a meeting of some sort..her eyes flick away. The 'tend calls out her drink and she turns to get it, sipping, watchful eyes returning to the cantina proper. ~~ The Ubese actually waves the two women over, making sure he has his arm candy for said meeting. If anything he wanted to impress any potential alliances with power people... at least that's what the manuals on piracey all state. Looking up at the man the Ubese shurgs in an overdramatic, non-challant, sort of way. "/Only if you're planning to talk business, I'm waiting for a client. Someone with an offer for me and my crew./" Is it working? Hard to say, but he plays it up as best he can. When the women and rodian follow suit, he motions for them to sit and for the Rodian to stand where he is to guard anyother randoms from trying to join their little party. "/But yes... I am Korrvas./" Just behind the Sith comes the emerald green Falleen, silently repeating his name as he gives it, committing it to memory as she mouthes the word. Without asking, she slides into the seat beside Korrvas, black lips pulling into a sweet smile for her boss. The pheramones shift slightly, beckoning where before they pushed away. Her face turns to regard Krackor and she smiles for him as well, a slight look of a serpent eyeing a mouse before it warms for him. A blue Twi'lek emerges from outside, looking a little dusty and a might torqued off as a result, her demeanor not what could be considered pleasant at a first glance. Cursing under her breath, she peers about her, her eyes narrowing as if she is attempting to peer through the heads of the patrons here so she can see the one she's looking for. Not seeing anyone she knows right off the bat, Sienn walks in the rest of the way and aims herself towards the bar. "I see." Krackor says flatly. Whatever the Ubese is playing at, Krackor doesn't see it. Pirates could be touchy at best and perhaps this one really did have other things to do. "Business it is, Korrvas. This shouldn't take long." Slipping into the booth, he sets his drink down and takes a long drag on his cigarra before continuing. "There is something I need done, and I think you and your crew could help me. Its dangerous, but you don't look the type to shy away from a little danger." He smiles at the pirate. A little flattery went a long way and in his experience, rogues like these ate it up. "I'm looking to get my hands on a few X-Wings. Nothing special, but important to me and my friends, nonetheless. I'm willing to offer you a fair price for your assistance. One hundred thousand credits, half now and the rest once the job is complete, sounds good, doesn't it?" A few other Twi'lek enter the cantina, lead by the synthleather jacketed frame of Tyy'sun Eson, his tatooed lekku furled around padded shoulders, his blue/grey eyes hidden by the sunshades used to ward off the twin suns of Tatooine outside. Once within the establishment the crimelord plucks the shades from his face, getting used to the dark atmosphere. Lekku writhe in communication to his small entourage and the group fans out into the room, leaving Eson to approach the bar. The crimson Twi'lek takes note of the patrons gathered today, as he has taken note of them in the past few weeks. The war with the Tatooine Hutts has gone in his Family's direction. Eson is the new act in Mos Eisley and beyond, and the public and locals are far more amenable to change in no small part due to the discounted Ryl spice Maffi has flooded the market with. So too do the Twi'leks peddle their wares now. Strixto makes sure to keep his elfin ears wide open as well as his eyes. He's interested in hearing whatever offer is being put on the table. As Korrvas and Krackor speak, the Rodian eyes the others at the bar. He's not being all that subtle, but that's just a tactic that he hopes will keep people at bay. The drink in his hand is brought to the lips of his snouts and he takes a good sip of the lum. Antennae pivot on his skull as he tastes the drink, which is one of his favorites. The Twi'lek walk in and fan out in a curious manner, leading Strix to push off the bar and adopt a less casual stance. He nods to the Tyy'sun slightly, but whether it is a greeting or simply an acknowledgement of him being present is unclear, considering the Rodian doesn't speak at the moment. Blue eyes flick to the lifted hand of Korrvas and Lark leans up off the bar to walk toward him and his group. She does not bounce, she does not sway, she does not giggle or bat her eyes, her motion is smooth and her gaze unfaltering, steady on her boss. A pause at the sentinel and she inclines her head briefly, she belongs here, you see, a drink taken, polite enough to wait until he grants her space to move to Korrvas' side. ~~ The Ubese seems to eat it up, and is lucky his smile of sucess his hidden behind his mask. "/That we do./" Is all he says with a tilt of his head, turning to regard the stunning Falleen taking a seat beside him, then to the rest of his crew arranged at the bar with eyes open. When he turns back to Krackor there is actually a laugh from the Ubese, modulated by the mask but rather clear either way. "/Just a FEW X-wings? That's a tall order Mr. Kracka, considering one X-wing on the black market would fence for considerably more. We're not some paltry bunch of newbies out here Cheif. Not by a long shot. So don't start lowballing us right out the gates?/" There is a pause now as he looks at his Falleen arm candy once again, perhaps signalling her to do something prediscussed. When he turns back he nods, seeming to come to a number in his head. "/Triple that offer and we have a deal. I can only guess where we're gonna get these ships from so this is alot to ask./" Korrvas then nods at Strix to let the woman know to him as Lark by to sit at the booth. Leaning forward, her elbows rest on the top of the table as her lips part slightly. While it might seem she is drawing attention to her cleavage, the real action is far more subtle and sinister. The distraction is provided not just in flesh but in unnoticed scent, pulling his attention away from the subject of bartering and placing it on her. It makes a man more likely to slip up and agree to whatever she wants, and she has used it to this end before. A man will promise half the galaxy to a pretty woman, especially if she is Falleen. Sri'sti smiles, tilting her head to the side as she gazes at Krackor and purrs as best a serpent can, "I'm sure you know how much we're worth..." Finally! Sienn catches sight of Korrvas and that's where she goes, preparing to play the 'little voice of reason' role opposite his less sane and more chaotic one. It takes her a moment to get past a group of unruly and unsavory men, a few of whom decide it is smart to try and grope her, that resulting in a few feet getting stepped on 'accidentally'. "Korrvas," she says once close enough but she falls quiet, not knowing anyone else outside of one, her hand falling subconsciously to the hilt of her sword while she tenses in a slight defensive posture. She knows Korrvas and his...ahem...'people skills' and this little group could easily wind up in a brawl. Eson orders a corellian whiskey at the bar and turns to take a lean-to on it, facing the spread of the cantina. He takes note of the presence of business being conducted, and recognizes Krackor. So the Human has not died at the hands of the Sith Empire. The crimelord nods to himself. Krackor has always been a straight shooter in the underworld, and has done business with Eson and Maffi alike off and on over the years. The man commands his respect, but he is not foolish enough to trust him beyond simple business deals. The Rodian guarding the business dealings is noted as well - and the crimson Twi'lek raises his glass to his lips. This is Tatooine, and its attraction to walkers of the underworld is its marketability. Let them have their meetings and their guards.. though Eson does not recognize the particular crew that Krackor seems to be conducting business with, or the Ubese and Falleen close to him, Tyy'sun and Maffi will suffer their presence - and the presence of those like them - so long as they show the proper respect to the Twi'leks of New Kala'uun and their fresh grip on the system. Eson takes note of the crew. They are professional, and employ a strategic lineup of members - a Ubese leader suggests capable raiding abilities in the crew.. a Falleen to augment negotiations much like Eson utilizes Twi'lek female yobana is clever. Capable hired gun and guards.. The blue Twi'lek here, however, takes the crimelord off guard, and it is to her that his gaze and thoughts linger. Who is this? Another stray from Ryloth? Eson takes note of her demeanor and her health, her skin, her general presence. Seeks to understand her position with the group - if she is a member of the crew, or a random patron of the Cantina attracted to Tatooine due to the rumors of Twi'lek advancement in the system. Krackor smiles around the cigarra held firmly between his lips. At least he wasn't dealing with a fool. Still, the art of the deal required certain steps that had to be taken if you wanted to walk away with some respect. "Triple, Korrvas? Clearly you are forgetting that yours isn't the only crew around. I'm sure I could find another crew that would be willing to take this job for half what I just offered you. Still, I need something better than a cheap gang of disposable pirates. One eighty. Difficult as this particular job may be, its not worth a fortune." He turns his eyes to the Falleen, inspecting what she has to offer for a moment before returning his attention to Korrvas. "That's quite a lady you've got there, but this is business Korrvas. She can save that for your next meeting. Besides, if this job goes well, there may be another soon after." Strix listens to the dealing going on at the table, though the Twi'lek at the bar is becoming more interesting to him. He just wanted to know what the job was going to be. How they businessmen come to a deal is something he can hear about secondhand for all he cares. The nod to Sienn from Korrvas is noted, and the Rodian lets her by without a problem. He drinks some more of his lum and remains ever watchful of the cantina crowd. The glass lowers from pale, curvy lips then is slightly tilted toward Strix as he offers no objection to Lark's progress to the table. A passing server's tray is optimum for the empty tumbler and Lark sets it down lightly then her slight form curves to slip down into the booth. Slender hands fold and rest in her lap and after an incline of her head to Korrvas her attention shifts across the table, settling a gaze on Krackor, blue gems taking him in in silence. No offer of cleavage, she doesn't even lick her lips, no, she just watches him. ~~ There is a long pause as the new number is put out on the table. Just the sound of the rebreather, and the murmur of the cantina patrons are in the background for a while. "/Ok... since apparently 'Kracka not math' I'll lay it out for you. One single X-wing would probably sell for half a mil to the right buyer, yes? A few for a fortune. The only reason I am even considering this sort of job is the promise of future gains and the idea that the mark we are stealing from are gonna be more interested in tracking down that actual ships instead of the people who stole them./" Once more he looks at the Falleen and shakes his head, as if blaming her for the failed Pheramoney attempt. "/Why do you think I wear the rebreather?/" He asks Krackor humorously, even though anyone who knows Ubese knows that's not the reason at all. "/Three hundred thousand or you can go off to one of those 'other crews' and pay them upfront just so they can fail and you can be out fifty thousand and have them songbirding to the authorities about you... Wait... did I forget to carry the 1.../" Korrvas seems to check his math. "/No. I didn't. Three hundred Thousand./" Krackor smiles again. "A businessman and a pirate. A rare combination, that." Taking the cigarra from his mouth, he grinds it out on the table. "Very well, Korrvas. Three hundred thousand it is. I just hope you and your crew are worth it." Reaching into his coat pocket, slowly and holding his coat open so the pirate can see what he's doing, the former smuggler draws out a small leather pouch. Dipping two fingers inside, he shuffles around for a moment before drawing out a small stack of high-demonination credits. "Half now, and the rest when the job is done." he says, placing the credits on the table and sliding them toward the middle. "Deal?" "Ahem!?" Sienn clears her throat, trying to get Korrvas' attention without calling out his name, the Twi'lek smart enough than to do that, especially here. "Do I get a hello or are you going to be a pimple on a Gamorrean's backside and ignore me?" Krackor's looked at and then given a minute smile but then she's glaring at her boss again, obviously not pleased. The others are noticed and nodded to in greetings once her annoyance ebbs while those watching her from elsewhere in the cantina are unnoticed, for now. ~~ Korrvas nods to Lark, as if to instruct her to take the credits and count them out. And even protect the stack from those who might start getting funny ideas. Perhaps to let the once military woman enjoy that 'glamorous pirate life' he was telling her about. "/Deal./" He tells the man with a wave of his armored hand, looking him over again and waiting for any more details if they come. "/We will contact you when we have the ships... a few of them./" Then Sienn chimes in and the Ubese snaps his head in her direction. "/Dammit Blue... you know I am having that looked at by the galaxies best doctors. So keep it on the low, yes?!/" He replies before looking back at Krackor and shaking his armored head. "/Pfft... women. Am I right?/" The Rodian hasn't been introduced to Sienn before, so all he sees is the possibility of trouble brewing. His fingers wiggle just above the butt of his pistol and he walks slowly over to the table where deals are being made and credits are being exchanged. When Korrvas speaks to Sienn, he pauses and does not approach further. Apparently they know each other. There shouldn't be any need for killing in that case. Releasing the credits, Krackor lifts his glass. He gives the Ubese pirate an odd look when he makes his statement about contacting Krackor. "I intend to accompany you on this job, so I will contact you once I have settled a few other matters. I can't say how soon it will be, but it would be best to have your crew ready and expecting me at any time. Now that I know your face, so to speak, I will find you." He stands and tosses back his drink, quickly downing the dark brown liquid inside. "Until then..." he inclines his head, turns his back to the pirates and makes his way back toward the door. A slender hand slides across the table and fingers curl around the credits, drawing them back to her. Protected indeed, they are placed in a black pouch and settled in her lap. Brows lift over azure eyes and Lark upturns a gaze to Sienn briefly at her outburst though they dance quickly to the approaching Rodian. Just as she's about to lift her free hand he stops and Korrvas takes his turn at settling down Blue, then Krackor is rising to leave. She watches him, so he drinks with that hand, and turns to that side, polite however, noted. Eson's senses extend tot he negotiating table, and listen in on the discussions despite the noisy cantina, and despite the crimelord not being very close to them at all. It is an ability Tyy'sun finds most useful in situations like these, and so it is that the crimson Twi'lek notes the comraderie between 'Blue' and the Ubese.. notes the skill with which Korrvas handles negotiations with the likes of Krackor Reincus.. notes the details of their plans two aquire X-Wing fighters. The crimelord smirks. Doubtlessly the Sith have bad difficulty with the legendary squadrons of the New Republic over Trandosha. Doubtlessly they seek a few examples of the fighter technology with which to study, design and craft their own. Krackor is smart to aquire them on the down-low. As the Human leaves and the negotiations Eson takes another sip of his drink. The other Twi'lek in the cantina are busy making spice deals with ethe patrons around the place, in shadowy booths - hell on the dance floor, its not like it is a secret or illegal in these parts of the slice. Eson is relieved to find that the blue Twi'lek stranger appears in good health, and has the backbone of a fighter - and commands the comraderie of her employer. It would be unfortuante if the crimelord had to impose himself on the situation and remedy another situation of Twi'lek abuse. He would rather not cause the Sith any more difficulty given the strained nature of the Family's relations to them. But the crimelord does desire contact. He awaits a moment when 'Blue' happens to send a gaze his way, at which time Eson's lekku writh communicatively and subtly opon his shoulders, converying a silent message that only the people of the Twi'lek race can easily understand. ~~ Watching the man go the Ubese just shakes his head again and turns to talk to his whole crew. "/Sit down my friends. Lets talk business./" Korrvas states as he leans back and waits for everyone to take a seat, he finally looks up and acknowledges the lethan twi'lek crime boss. He had noticed him come in, but was at the moment focused on the deal at hand. There is a long look sent in the way of Tyy'sun before a gloved hand is raised and he waves at the man. Almost as if they were old friends and this was nothing more than a pleasurable coincidence that they were in the cantina at the same time. From there he simply waits for the red twi'lek to approach their table. Strix drinks a bit more of his lum before he settles down and takes a seat. He looks among all the unfamiliar faces that he is likely to get to know very well very soon. He nods to each one and sets his glass on the table, leans back, and turns to Korrvas to hear him speak. The Zeltron has her ears to the ground persay, listening to whom is where, and thus she manages to find her way into the Cantina, making a quick once around to ensure no one is about to start a blaster fight before she makes her way to the bar, towards Tyy'sun, managing to use her natural grace to press her self in close, to make it look like she's just prostitute trying to solicit him, sans her heavy armament. "Ahh Mister Maffi, how good it is to see you.." She says in a quiet tone, so he hears, and one that drips of business. Eson is a little suprised at the wave from the armored Ubese leader of the crew, but takes advantage of the acknowledgement. Perhaps his eavedropping was not as subtle as the crimelord assumed. Whatever the case, Tyy'sun has an agenda and a few booted footfalls begin to bring him and his drink toward the table, when he is interupted by a red skinned, short haired leather clad Zeltron's body being pressed against his. So intrigued by the new faces at the cantina, the crimelord is taken somewhat by suprise. Certainly he has been solicited before by prostitutes - but never have they called him Mr. Maffi. Eson's protective instincts take over and the Twi'lek faces the female presing against him, and his lekku wrap around her shoulder and the crimelord pulls her in close while pressing his forehead against her own, though he has to bend doward a bit to do so given her short stature. Intense blue/grey orbs challenge Tara to stick a knife in his side, challenge her to even begin to exact some unexpected underworld execution. The gaze promises her that he will destroy her as surely as if she were a Hutt. But the crimelord does not attack. He gives her a chance to explain or act. "Speak or strike, schutta." he bids. Lark spies Strixto as he takes a seat, aha, he's on our side, interesting. She looks to Korrvas then Sienn and inclines her head, the pouch still cradled in both hands. A glance flicks toward the bar and her blue gaze trains on the /couple/, a grin, she watches. Hmm. Bold. Both. Commanding..he. Calculating..she. Her eyes drift back to Korrvas, "Well done," she says simply. The Zeltron laughs softly, a disturbing sound as her hands run down Tyy'sun's chest gently. "Mr Maffi, you should calm your self, or I will not tell you of the Ghost that haunts you.." She says with a broad grin, that likely speaks more volumes of madness then any thing else. "You were bested by a Hutt, and one bled to death, but the dead walk amoungst the living. You want the DNA Proof? I have DNA Proof." She says. ~~ When the human woman comment Korrvas nods in her direction. "/You expected anything less from your glorious leader?/" Chirping out the comment in a joking manner behind the modulated voice. When the Zeltron arrives to stay Tyy'sun from joining them and ending the day's activities, Korrvas sighs and shakes his head again. Then, loud enough for everyone to hear he says. "/Look kids... that Zeltron is 'presenting' to the Twi'lek./" Pointing in their direction, looking along his crew and watching for humored expressions. "/Lets see if her seductive dance allures his primal senses, or if he kills her for the slight at his manhood./" The man chuckles again, nudging Sienn in the ribs and laughing. "/I do so love watching interspecies mating rituals./" 'Blue' would have sat with her crewmates but something catches her attention and she pivots slowly to face Tyy'sun and the woman speaking with him. The hand that was already at her hip, resting upon the hilt of her sword, begins to be drawn back, the sword slowly withdrawn from its sheath as she does. Anyone who knows her should know it takes a lot to set her on edge, Sienn an abnormally calm being under normal circumstances, so it isn't like she's going off half-cocked due to bad nerves. Tyy'sun's brow raises high. A smirk befalls his expression, and his lekku withdraw from the Zeltron's shoulders. "Let me by you a drink then.." he intones, gesturing to a seat at the bar. It would seem the plot of Ambrosia thickens. At least that is Eson's assumption. There are only so many Hutts who have bested Maffi in battle, though the two sides have both won conflicts in the ongoing underworld war.. there is only one Hutt with a ghost who died of internal bleeding. As the heckling from the table the Ubese' crew sits at falls over Eson's ears the crimelord's ire liekwise raises. It takes so little for that. For the moment, it is ignored. If Tara's promise of information was not as compelling, the direction of the situation may go differently. He does not know the Zeltron, but she evidently knows him, and knows of some of the most subtle facets of the conflict between Maffi and Thyferra. Eson leads Tara away from the direction of the table, and toward the end of the bar.. he would hear her out, before making a judgement in the matter. He can investigate the blue Twi'lek and the Ubese and his crew in a moment. The Zeltron follows Tyy'sun comfortably, a sneer given to the table before they settle up at the bar and she reaches into her coat pocket to remove a print out of some kind. Two vastly different dates, but DNA Matches. "Mr. Maffi..look." She says, tossing it down on the bar before she even orders a drink, legs throwing over the stool to sit, body still close to Tyy'sun, trying to read his reaction. "Just Red Juice." She says to the bartender before turning to look at Tyy's face again. "I can give you her last known location to, and what it is she does for the Slugs.." She murmurs. This is nothing like the military. In fact, none of this is anything like Lark is accustomed to, except that, beings are always manuevering. Her eyes follow one person then another, then she looks to Korrvas, "I do try to keep my expectations tempered.." she answers smoothly. Another look shifts to Blue and she watches.. for a second time the woman reacts to something, this time with a blade instead of words. This should prove interesting. ~~ If it was possible to look hurt and sullen behind all that armor, Korrvas accomplishes exactly that. His shoulders slump as the Lethan is lead away, and he just sighs through the rebreather. "/Her attempts are successful and the buck is led away so they can frolick together./" Korrvas looks then over at the rutian and nods, agreeing that her sword should be out and read. His own glove lifting his finely crafted blaster from his holster and playing with the trigger as it sits on his lap. "/See that now?/" He asks Lark. "/Good sense to be prepared when there are shinnanigans about causing trouble. No one's going to give you the weapons clear order here Ms Ladypants. So eyes open, yes?/" But still they don't make to leave, but simply wait for Tyy'sun to come to them. Business was hardly done. Eson takes the datapad in hand and observes it with interest, and responds with credits, placing them on the counter and sliding them forward.. it is a substantial amount, "Continue.." he bids her, his face remaining quite stern. He wishes to be done with this quickly, and does not like the Zeltron's forward and sudden manner of doing business. But her wares are compelling indeed, and evidently the female has done her homework. The crimelord was suspicious about rumors that Ambrosia had died from his beating of the traitorous Twi'lek.. did not think he had pummeled her hard enough, or long enough for that.. but the Twi'lek species is delicate in many ways, and it was withint he realm of possibility that she indeed died a few days later after Zorbo had rescued her off of Pahgan. Given her penchant for disguises and running, it is far more within the realm of logic that Ambrosia is faking her death to set about yet another identity. Eson waits for Tara's words, eyeing her. The crimelord does offer the table of the Ubese and crew a look, and nods to the Ubese in a way that suggests he must do business and will be approaching the table soon. The image of 'Blue' appearing upset, with her knuckles wrapped around the hilt of a blade and her gaze in their direction however gives the crimelord pause. Perhaps she is not friendly to the Family, as a few wayward members of their race display. Perhaps she knows the bold Zeltron and has an old score to settle. Whatever the case, Eson is confidence his agents in the cantina will see to the safe conclusion of this brief meeting. Eson does not notice the drawn blaster in the Ubese' lap. The Zeltron lightly grins and moves to collect the credits. "I will not give her name, you see, there is some personal attachment in this after all..but she was last seen on the Wheel, visiting the Hutt Sector, and speaking with a Rodian. Later she was seen on Thyferra, delivering information to Zorbo. Unfortunately, prior to Ambrosia's death, I did help her out after a boyfriend committed suicide as she told me." She says, calmly, sipping her juice when it arrives, enjoying the cooled beverage. "Tell me then Mr. Maffi, how much is she worth to you? You can not extort the information from me, so do not think the standard methods of torture and threats of rape will matter. Further more, I am to prolific an Icon in the galaxy to go un noticed if am to disappear.." She murmurs. It's at that moment that one of the odder things in the Galaxy, a scarred Zeltron, comes into the cantina. She bears more than a passing resemblance to Tara, as an aside. Hey, sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. She looks about, shaking her head a little bit. "Why does that little tart always decide to come to places like this?" says she, shaking her head a little bit as she does so, heading for the bartender while she waits for Tara to show... Oh. There she is. Ladypants. Lark merely nods her head, eyes locked on the 'frolicking' pair for the moment. The blue orbs do shift briefly to Korrvas and she inclines her head with a tilt of /alrighty then/, and one hand slides to her back as she leans forward a bit, fingers this time curling at the hilt of her blaster. "Always..open.." she says quietly to Korrvas, the gaze shifting once more, another Zeltron joins the pack. From afar, Sienn nods. "Yeah, because of the negative feelings. Downside of playing an 'empath'. The crimelord stands from his perch at the bar. Maffi does not play games, and this Zeltron is both bold in business and offensive in her conduct of it. Eson's lekku writhe about his shoulders as he turns away. It does not take long before the spice dealing Twi'lek in the far corners of the place begin to abandon their business and make their wayt oward the bar - blasters drawn. Eson turns around, "If you believe that your personal stake in matters far bigger than yourself or your petty threats are going to stay my Family's hand then it is you who are going to learn that dissapearing acts are my speciality, Zeltron." Eson looks to the three Twi'lek - a yellow skinned female and two orange skinned males who aim their blasters at Tara. "Take her." he orders, though pausing for a moment, looking back at Tara. "Unless of course you learn some manners in the next thirty seconds, schutta, you will learn first hand how much she is... worth to me." Eson does begin to recognize the Zelton from holovids now, but it hardly matters. There is war at hand and crimelords like Eson are far more prolific in the Galaxy in their own minds than any media celebrities. The Zeltron's fingers drift to her blasters as she leans back into the bar, watching the Maffigoons. "You have yet to say how much she is worth. This is purely business Mr. Maffi, I am after all, trying to make a living. Even if you manage to gun me down, this leaves you even further from her. I can deliver her dead or alive, or provide her new name and the like. But you must of course, say prices." Some how, Tara's bodylanguage is starting to read borderline happy, thrilled, perhaps even some vagaries of sexual lust. "So Mr. Maffi, what is the price you will pay for her?" She asks again. "You have not posted a bounty with in the guild, so no other hunter has this information, and given her ability to disappear and run, I don't suspect others will make the connection as I did so soon.." After having a Sith use the force to attack her, and Zorbo yelling for her head, blasters are almost friendly . Enough is enough and soon Sienn is leaning towards everyone, muttering quickly as she does. "There seems to be some issues across the way. Keep an eye out for that group. I need to go." Why Sienn needs to go is anyone's guess but she's not forthcoming with any answers or details. As she bails out of the cantina her sword is slipped back into its home. ~~ "/See. The galaxy balances itself out./" Korrvas chuckles as the Zeltron is then put under the maffi guns. He holsters his weapons and looks between his crew. "/Ease off now kids./" Seems teh Ubese was primed and ready to help the Maffi leader and his people if the Zeltron got any more uppity. Instead he simply leans back, placing his hands behind his head and reclining. "What was that, chovas?" A Zeltron insult, just in case Eson understands the language. Desira gets up from her seat at the bar the very second she sees multiple Twi'lekki converging on her sister, a rather evil glint in her eyes as she looks them over. Of course, she's armed AND armored, though it likely would not do too much good where so many blasters are concerned. On the other hand, Des' pistol is out, if not aimed yet. Unlike her sister, she seems not so much in lust as she does enraged. ~~ "/See. The galaxy balances itself out./" Korrvas chuckles as the Zeltron is then put under the maffi guns. He holsters his weapons and looks between his crew. "/Ease off now kids./" Seems teh Ubese was primed and ready to help the Maffi leader and his people if the Zeltron got any more uppity. Instead he simply leans back, placing his hands behind his head and reclining. When the rutian stands and makes to leave, the Ubese says nothing more and simply watches her go. When she's gone he adds... "/So dramatic that one./" Tyy'sun hmphs, observing the Zeltron's response. Perhaps she has some tenacity as well as fire. She was about to have a surplus of /blaster/ fire, however. But Eson is willing to pay for gains, as he has disclosed at the bar. What he will not tolerate is disrespect and threats from someone who showns nothing but contempt for manners and protocal. Eson is not one to be pupeteered and manipulated by the bait of information. But Tara's words are the coorect ones to stave off the crimelord's harshest of reactions, just as they were sufficient to stave off his offense at her rubbing aginst him uninvitedly. Now that Eson has made a scene of the dealings, the crimson Twi'lek shrugs and motions for his Family members to lower their blasters, "You deliver that schutta to me dead or alive and you'll be sipping drinks in retirement by the tune of fifty thousand. Now get out of town, and take that.." he gestures toward the armored fellow Zeltron at the bar who is ruffled by the appearance of blasters, "with you." The Zeltron is still leaning against the bar with a sneer now. "You take to low for the job. I'd need to break guild protocol and make it out of Hutt Space with her. Consider this Mr. Maffi and contact me with a better price for the Ghost..and tell your Twi'leks they ought to consider being intimidating." She says, gently patting Tyy'sun's cheek if she's close enough. "Desira, this was not worth my time." She says, moving towards her sister, preening her self as she does. "Mr Maffi, Ghost is out there, and I do not know why you hate her, but it amuses me greatly! She is a worthless broken play thing, A hundred thousand credits, and I will bring her to you, alive, bound, and gagged." She laughs. Shaking her head, Desira looks back and forth between the different Twi'lekki, trying to check to see if any of them are making a move to shoot. Unlike her sibling, this one seems all military spit and polish, which likely means ex-Zeltron Guard or Police, not like there's much for either of those two units to do. "Tara, are you insane?" asks she, looking to the others, before adding, "Never mind, forget I asked that." ~~ "/Oh my.../" Korrvas says as he draws his blaster yet again and holds it under the table. His emotional state is remaining calm and relaxed, but he is primed to act if he needs to. Upsetting the most powerful crime boss in the galaxy before patting him on the cheek is... stupid to say the least. The Ubese readies his weapon and takes careful aim at the Zeltron, his weapon out of sight but now out of line of fire. "/We get snubbed for this?/" He laughs out quietly to his crew as they sit and wait. Eson seems to grow calm and composed in deameanor as the words of Tara descend opon him, as though solidifying something within the crimelord's mind. Some sentients in the Galaxy have little penchant for negotiations, and even less grasp on alien cultures. Typically it does not require a great deal of common sense to know that you generally should not insult the people you are attempting to get high stakes business from. It takes a measure of insanity to attempt to get high stakes business from the mob while simultaneiously offending them. The crimelord nods his head as though considering her words.. yes, the Twi'lek should be more intimidating, true.. he thinks to himself, entertaining the notion of his inward ire as he walks back toward the bar, and then moves around behind it. The bartender allow this, because the crimelord protects his business in the face of the Hutt-Twi'lek war, and protects him from Hutt backlash. Eson grabs a bottle of Corellian whiskey and a glass and pours a drink, as though deep in consideration of the request of 100,000 credits. Slowly Eson slides the glass toward Tara as though to offer it to her - as though he is about to renegotiate and serve the bold bounty hunter. until he suddenly snarls, his lekku growing tight about his head and with all his rage the crimson Twi'lek screams "I SAID GET OUT!" All the frustration and disbelief at the audacity of the Zelton is unleashed in a single powerful push of the Darkside - meant to propell the insulting female directly towards the door at great and harmful speeds! On the other hand, Desira isn't stupid, although by the measure of most Zeltron, she is quite insane. She holsters her pistol, and sighs as she does so. She may not believe in all the meditation poodoo, but she knows better than to open fire on someone either that physically powerful, or someone with something powerful enough to knock Tara outside with a single blow. "Not her most... skillful... negotiation, I take it?" asks she, deadpan. She seems a lot calmer now that her sister isn't present. The Zeltron was about to take the drink, just to spite Tyy, when she gets the skin crawling feeling she felt before from another Force User, body tightening, moving to coil, not sure what to expect until she's hurled through the door, likely tearing it off the hinges in her passing. Some thing about she hates this job or the like. Apparently, she's dealt with the Dark Side before. ~~ The scene unfolds but in the mind of Korrvas it's like some sort of Holo cartoon. The Zeltron goes flying out the door, smashing it to bits and the lethan is left to stand by his power and authority. Holstering his blaster again the man lifts both hands and begins to applaud the Twi'lek crime boss, the armor clanking together as he does so. "/Damn fine show. Damn fine./" Looking around at his crew he lifts his hand for a high-five to the rodian, who just stares back at him. Left hanging he shrugs and looks back at Tyy'sun, back to waiting for the man to approach. Eson glowers for a moment in his ire, but the sight of the Zeltron thrown literally through the cantina door combined with her backup at the bar being visibly calmed releases the tension in the crimelord. He raises the glass supposedly meant for Tara to his lips and partakes of it, his eyes darting toward Desira to make sure that the sentient is not reacting foolishly to the events. He is forced to nod his accord with her momment, but as far as the crimelord is concerned, Desira pulled a blaster in defense of the schutta Tara and is not to be trusted.. "I believe this is your exit cue, stranger." he comments in response, stepping out from behind the bar. He did tell Tara to take that with her, afterall. His back to the bar now, Eson steps toward the applauding Ubese and crew, not sharing in their obvious joy with the scene, but calmed nontheless. He notes the dissapearance of 'Blue' with quiet dissapointment as he stands before Korrvas. At this close range the Twi'lek takes an inventory of the sentient, his armor, and his demeanor and seeks to recall if he is familiar with the being or if he is relatively new to the Galactic arena. "Pardon the show." he asks, "Sometimes business can take unexpected turns." (repose) "Fair enough then, I'll be leaving. Have a good one, and all that." She doesn't seem out to tick Eson off, though, the minumum amount of sarcasm dripping from her lips. "If it turns out my sister does manage to bag the target, when we return, I'll be the one doing the negotiations." She sighs a little bit, as she heads for the door as directed to by the Maffi, shaking her head as she does so. "And she's the less insane sister..." mutters she, just loud enough for someone to pick up on it, as she walks out the door. ~~ "/That is does my good Lord./" The Ubese intones before he signals the human woman at his table to produce the credits he had taken from Krackor. His armored head tilts as he stares blankly up at the man, only his voice contains the humor and enjoyment of the situation. "/I can only assume you heard or knew of our meeting beforehand, and as a true business man of ill reput I know the cost of doing business in another mans yard./" There is a small pile of credits send in Tyy'suns direction across the table. "/I assume that a five percent fee covers such dealings./" Fifteen thousand credits and given openly and freely, apparently this Ubese knows how to play the game. The maffi are a powerful enemy, but an even more powerful ally. The crimelord does not respond verbally to Desira, but so too does the crimelord refrain from argument. At least that Zeltron speaks with some sense, and if the prospect of negotiating with her, rather than the mouthy holocelebrity is a far more pleasant notion. Then the Ubese speaks. It is a day of suprises, it would seem. At the sight of the credits and the explanation from the armored Ubese, Eson's generally stern demeanor loosens even further. He pulls out a chair and takes a seat at Korrvas' table, and places a strong, approving gaze on this man who shows proper respect to the Family.. it is a stark contrast indeed, within the span of ten minutes. "Your methods are oldschool, stranger." intones Eson, "I like that. You have shown respect and have gained the Family's favor. Your movements through our systems and turf will be easy as a result." Eson takes the credit chips and pockets them within the synthleather jacket. by now the other Twi'lek have returned to their spice dealing at other booths around the cantina. "I would know your name and crew calling. It may come to pass that the Family can aid in your aquisition of starfighters on behalf of Mr. Rencanus." Korrvas gives some credits to Tyy'sun. ~~ There is an overly elaborate bow and flurry of hands as the Ubese lowers his head to the master of this realm. When he rises again he nods and looks between his crew. "/I am Korrvas./" Pointing to his own chest and noding again, the mask an impassive face to watch. Then in order of the Rodian, Human, and the Falleen... "/This is Chuckles, Ms Ladypants, and Greeny... you just missed Blue. She has to use the powder room./" He explains with a voice modulated chuckle. "/As for the name of our crew... that kinda stuff only ever get done in holos. No name. Just me. My crew. And the job. Best pirates aren't notorious, their unknown. Wouldn't you agree?/" Eson nods to each in turn, ammused silently at their callings. To the discussion on names, Eson says, "That all depends on the business angle." Eson nods, "there are some who gain quick recognition and fast business with a name to spread through the underworld vines. But indeed they inherit a precarious position. Especially when operating between high profile clients, such as yourself, Korrvas. Again your wisdom is impressive." Eson takes another sip of the Corellian whiskey and leans backward before placing it gripped on the table with a black gloved hand. His lekku slowly gesticulate and ripple along his shoulders in thought. Korrvas has mentioned 'Blue' and it brings Eson to one of the reasons he was drawn to the group in the first place. "You may not be aware of this, but my Family takes a pro-active interest in the health and prosperity of the Twi'lek race." he begins, growing more serious in tone and expression. "The Twi'lek member of your crew appears healthy and independant - and you display an honorable disposition. Already I am comfortaed that any Twi'lek in your employ will remain as she appears to be. The Family takes steps to ensure that Twi'lek are treated with respect and in fairness. We award resources to employers who abide by these guidelines and recognize their legitimacy. The opposite is true for those who show a penchant for abuse.. and nother short of death for those who trade in Twi'lek slaves." Another drink is taken and Eson returns his hand to his synthleather jacket to produce the credits just handed to him, "And so it is with satisfaction that I recognize the health of 'Blue' and recognize your operations." Eson pushes the credits back to Korrvas before adding, "and best it stays that way." ~~ "/Blue is a friend, an employee, and an independant being by all rights and will remain as such. Your words and heeded and accepted as truth in this case./" Once again the flurry of hands and a bow. The head tilting as it comes up. "/But as for help in this recent endeavor, I think that our name and mark will be made for solo completion. The Maffi is respected and will be thought of as a resource, but our name will be made through our reputation./" With that the Ubese stands and bows again. His crew doing similarly. "/If you have nothing further, we will be of on the road to the land of adventure... and all that./" His voice seeming oddly hurmorous yet again.